When Love Isn't Enough
by DKM
Summary: The cuts should have been the first indication something wasn't right, but she said she'd tell him what was wrong eventually. She didn't, and now her life hung in the balance. He couldn't leave her, though. This was his fault and he was going to find a way to make it right. MAJOR TRIGGER WARNING: Attempted Suicide.
1. Prologue

_**When Love Isn't Enough (I Still Fight For You)**_

Rating: M

Pairing: Oliver/Felicity

Season/Episode: Set in the future, 1 year after the tragedy in the Glades

Category: Angst, Hurt/Comfort

Synopsis: The cuts should have been the first indication something wasn't right, but she said she'd tell him what was wrong eventually. She didn't, and now her life hung in the balance. He couldn't leave her, though. This was his fault and he was going to find a way to make it right. MAJOR TRIGGER WARNING: Attempted Suicide.

AN: This story is a continuation of "Cuts So Deep" so I've included that in the fic itself for those of you who haven't read it.

First off, I'd like to thank the two people who encouraged me to write this fic in the first place: hopedreamlovepray and anthfan. If I hadn't, I might not be here right now.

This fic is heavy on the depression and suicide themes, so I'm warning you, it's not going to be a fun ride. The beginning is rough as hell and although I have NO idea where this story is going to take me, just now it's built on personal experience and that it's me trying to deal with my own demons through characters that I have a lot of fun writing.

Sorry in advance for everything I'm doing to Oliver and Felicity, but I am going for a happy ending, so you have that to look forward to.

Second, I'd like to thank all the people who've given me suggestions, so thank you: tanya-posts, sharonvered and girlwithsixsmiles. You guys are awesome for being my betas.

Third, thank you all for reading this fic even though it's got a TON of angst.

Disclaimer: (the usual, don't own, idea was mine though)

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**Prologue**

He wondered why he never saw her in shorts, especially on days as hot as today. No, she'd always wear a skirt that fell to her knees or pants. But never shorts. The only time he'd ever seen her in anything short was the dress she'd worn the night of the bomb collar incident. But since then, it had been long floor length gowns.

Today was no different. Even in the stifling mid summer heat she still wore a skirt that brushed past her knees. It intrigued him. Laurel had never worn anything longer than shorts on days like today. But this was Felicity Smoak, someone he knew very little about aside from what she revealed in her rambling outbursts. She was a mystery. Even the background check he'd done on her had revealed very little about her personal life.

Tonight he'd found her on the couch, curled up after a long day's work fast asleep against its cool forest green leather surface. Her knees were almost to her chest, her flowing magenta and white polka dotted skirt riding up her thighs exposing soft, creamy skin. But then he noticed something. Peeking out from beneath the ruffled fabric was a series of thin horizontal red lines that disappeared under the bright cotton.

He paused for a moment and stared at them. They weren't fresh, but they weren't old either; probably no more than a month judging by their pink edges. Taking a closer look, he realized what they were. His hand was reaching out, brushing the fabric higher before her knew what he was doing. When she jolted up, her fingers wrapping around his wrist, pulling it back, he could see he'd crossed a line.

"Oliver, what are you doing?" she asked, sitting up. She released her grip on his hand and smoothed out the skirt until it lay over her knees. The angry, questioning glare in her eyes made his mouth go dry.

"I…" He couldn't find the words. He didn't know what he was doing. He just wanted to see how many lines spread out across her thigh. It was morbid curiosity. The only other time he'd ever seen anything like that was back in college when one of his potential girlfriends told him he should stay away because she cut. He didn't know what that meant until she'd shown him the lines along her upper arms. He'd been appalled and disgusted at the time and never wanted anything to do with her again after that.

This was different. The woman before him was his closest confidant and best friend. Had he still been the petty, foolish boy he'd been in college, he wouldn't have cared enough to ask, but he wasn't that person anymore. The man he was now wanted to figure out why she felt the need to slice her beautiful skin open. What had hurt her so much?

She was still staring at him, waiting for an answer, her eyes narrowed. "What's wrong?" He spoke softly, trying to be as comforting as possible without overstepping his bounds. He wanted to reach out and touch her, take her hand as she fidgeted with the hem of her skirt, but the way her mouth had become a thin line told him now was not the right time. His words could be her only comfort.

Pulling at the hem until it was taught against her knees, she scooted away, her eyes falling to her lap. The momentary flash of pain he saw in those endless blue pools tore at his heart, but she hid it quickly, slipping on a mask of indifference as she looked back up at him. "Nothing," she finally murmured.

"Okay." He knew not to push because she could be just as stubborn as he was when it came to revealing information. "You know I'm always here if you need to talk, right?"

She nodded. "I know." Her words were soft as she glanced back down into her lap. The anger had passed. Her shoulders slumped forward and he reached over, his large hand covering both her small ones in a solid show of support. When she gazed up at him, he could see a faint glimmer of tears shining under the fluorescent overhead lights.

There was a war going on inside her head. Her overly expressive eyes gave it away. Several emotions crossed those paled blue orbs before she finally looked away. He sat down beside her, his hands still covering hers. As he waited for her to say something, she sighed deeply and let her head fall to his shoulder.

Even if she didn't say a word, he didn't mind just sitting there being her pillow. "Someday," she whispered. "Right now, I'm not ready."

So he squeezed her hands and leaned back against the couch. His arm came up and wrapped around her shoulders, pulling her into his chest before the other arm enveloped her, completing the embrace. She sighed again, her head falling beneath his chin as her hand came to rest over his heart.

"I'll be here," he whispered then pressed a soft kiss to her forehead. "I'll always be here."


	2. Chapter 1

Since the prologue is just a rehash of Cuts So Deep, I've added the second chapter already.

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**Chapter 1**

She hadn't come into work that day. He understood why. Today marked a year since the fall of the Glades and even he'd contemplated staying home and going instead to Tommy's grave. The pain in his heart overwhelmed him that morning, but he'd gotten up and gotten dressed before heading to his office in order to drown out the memories and deal with the aftermath, while putting up with the constant reminders that he still had a company to save as well. He hoped she'd found something similar to do instead of sitting at home thinking about the events of that fateful day.

When he'd called her to check in, it went straight to voicemail. His texts went unanswered as well. He was worried about her, worried that she was reliving the past in vivid detail. The images of the marks he'd seen on her thigh reminded him that she was in a fragile state and a sudden feeling of uneasiness struck him. He tried to push it down and ignore it, busying himself with paperwork, but it wouldn't go away.

At five that afternoon, he clocked out and decided he needed to go to her instead of heading to the lair. Her wellbeing was far more important than anything else at that moment, even Arrow related things. He just needed to know she was okay so the tightness in his chest would ease.

He drove himself, telling Diggle to go home and spend some time with Carly and AJ. With Deadshot having long been dispensed, the man had managed to pick up the pieces of his broken past and had begun to heal. Oliver, on the other hand, was still reconciling with his demons, and the only person who had managed to get him this far was currently not answering her phone.

Upon reaching her apartment, he parked along the curb on the other side of the street. Her car was where he always found it, two spots from the front door of the brownstone. He'd picked up a bottle of wine, her favorite red, hoping it would help ease whatever pain she was in just enough so they could talk about it.

Rather than using the front door, he went in through the back patio. It had become their thing, something only he was allowed to do, especially after hours when he'd sent her home only to end up too injured and bleeding to help himself. He knew this was far too familiar for friends, but they never spoke of that aspect of their relationship. All he knew was she cared for him just as much as he cared for her. And really, that's all he needed to know because if she harbored any of the other feelings that had crept into his heart in the year and a half they'd known each other, he was afraid it might ruin the great thing they had going.

The patio door was open a crack, the curtains blowing softly in the light spring breeze. Her room was dark, the bed still unmade from that morning. He pushed the door open and stepped inside. Setting the bottle down on her dresser, he threw off the jacket of his grey suit. It was left hanging on the chair beside her desk where he spotted her glasses, along with an empty bottle of wine. Her wine glass was nowhere to be found.

Wandering through the open door, he scanned the living room, dining room and kitchen to find them empty as well. Maybe she was in the bathroom. His head craned in the other direction to see that door shut. There was a moment of pondering whether or not to announce his arrival, but he decided it would probably be best considering the number of times he'd scared her.

"Felicity?" he called out to her as he knocked on the door. It opened slightly. That was odd. She never left the bathroom door open while she was inside. The sinking feeling he'd had in his chest that entire day returned with vigor.

Pushing open the door a little more, he called to her again. "Felic-…" He stopped mid-sentence when his eyes spied her bare foot lying haphazardly on the white tile floor. Following it up, he found her slumped over the edge of the bath tub, her face pale as a ghost, her lips a purplish-blue. His heart stopped. Her eyes were closed.

"Felicity!" He ran to her, his knees hitting the ground as he skidded to a halt beside her. His fingers pressed to the pulse point in her neck praying that she was just a little sick and that this was nothing to be too worried about. But her skin was cold and he could barely feel the beat of her heart. Looking over to the arm that kept her propped up, he found the reason why.

A cut spanned the length of her forearm from her wrist to almost her elbow. The bloody shard of glass used to slash it lay inches from her lifeless fingers. Blood seeped from the gash and pooled beneath her hand before it ran down into the drain.

He gasped then immediately took action. His white dress shirt was torn off, buttons flying everywhere before he began to shred it into strips. The first one was wrapped around her elbow while the second one was wrapped around her wrist. They were tied tightly to create a tourniquet. He hoped it would staunch the bleeding as he used the rest of his shirt to wrap around her arm as a makeshift bandage before holding it up above her head to keep her from continuing to bleed out.

Pulling the phone from his pocket, he dialed 9-1-1. The operator that answered was a calm woman who sounded to be in her early 40's. "Nine-one-one, what's your emergency?"

"My um…" Words failed him. All he could think about was the blood now dripping down her arm and landing on his bare shoulder. "My friend…" he finally mumbled.

"What happened to your friend, sir?" The woman was very patient with him, her voice conveying the empathy he so desperately needed at that moment along with a slight sense of urgency to keep him talking.

"She um… I um… I found her in her bathroom. Her arm… There's blood…" He was at a loss for words. He couldn't tell the woman on the other end of the line that his best friend had tried to kill herself. He couldn't even think about it, let alone say it. That would make it too real and too hard to handle.

"Sir, what's your name?"

"Oliver."

"And what's your friend's name?"

"Felicity."

"I need you to do me a favor, Oliver. You need to tell me the address so I can send paramedics to help Felicity. Can you do that for me?" He rambled the street address and the apartment number then told her to send them through the back because that's where the door was open. "Okay, they're on their way. It shouldn't take more than five minutes. I want you to keep talking to me, Oliver…"

But her voice was drowned out by the thoughts running through his head. Why would Felicity do this? Why wouldn't she talk to him? Why did she think this was the only way? The questions ran in a loop through his mind as it finally sunk in. He might lose the only person who knew him best, the only person who had seen all of him, good and bad.

The woman on the other end of the line kept asking him questions, but he didn't hear any of them. His focus was solely on the girl sprawled out on the floor beside him, her skin so pale and so cold it almost blended in with the tiles. The phone slipped from his hand and clattered to the ground. Scooping her up into his arms, he held her to his chest hoping his warmth would stir something inside her that would fight this, that would bring her back.

"Please, Felicity, please stay with me," he mumbled into her ear. "I can't lose you too." Images of Tommy's death swirled in his mind and the tears sprang from his eyes, cascading down his cheeks as he held her a little tighter. "I can't lose you," he wept.

Every feeling, every emotion he'd ever felt for her seeped out, leaving him raw inside and out. He cared about this woman far more than he'd ever admitted to anyone, himself included. Now, faced with the possibility of losing her, those feelings were at the forefront of his mind. "Please, Felicity," he begged, cradling her cheek with his hand as he gazed down at her pale face. "I need you. You're everything to me."

He buried his face in her hair and let himself cry for the first time since he'd watched Tommy die. That's how the paramedics found them, his arms wrapped around her tightly with his face hidden by her golden locks. Even after they'd kneeled down beside him he wouldn't let her go. His arms remained securely wrapped around her, holding her to his chest until a delicate hand on his shoulder forced him to look up and lock eyes with a woman no older than the one in his arms with black hair and olive skin.

"We're here to help," she said, her voice soft and gentle as if she were talking to a wild animal.

After a tense moment, he finally loosened his hold on Felicity and let the paramedic do her job. He continued to cradle her in his arms, though, refusing to relinquish his hold. The paramedic did her best, but he had become a hindrance to her and even he knew it, but his fear of losing her overwhelmed him.

"You need to put her down, sweetie," the woman said, again using her soft voice. He merely stared at her, his fingers digging into Felicity's cool skin. "How about we compromise? You can carry her to the ambulance and hold her hand while we do our job. Is that okay?"

Oliver nodded. They stood from the floor and walked out the front door this time. He carried her to the waiting ambulance, laying her out on the cot just as the paramedic instructed, then folded her hand between his palms. Like a hawk he watched the paramedics strip away the makeshift bandage he'd made to assess the wound. It was as ghastly as he remembered it, the red blood a sharp contrast to her ashen skin.

The ambulance lurched forward, but his focus remained on Felicity. His eyes never left her face, their fingers remaining intertwined as he prayed for a sign that she would be okay, that she would make it through this. Everything going on around him became a blur. Even after they reached the hospital, he never let go of her hand, refusing to do so even after the nurses insisted she be changed into a gown so they could more easily assess her injury. They had to pry him away in order to do it.

Two burly male nurses pulled him out of her cubicle before the others closed the curtains and shut him out completely. The fear returned full force as he tried to break away from his captors, but they continued to hold onto him, dragging him further away from his helpless friend. They shoved him into a small room and closed the door.

It was then that Oliver realized he'd been shouting her name the whole time, begging them to let him go, to let him stay. He knew why he needed to leave, that his presence was only hindering their efforts to help her. So he finally sank into a chair and let his head fall into his hands.

The door to the room opened with a soft click as a pair of light feet shuffled inside. His head shot up. Standing in front of him was another nurse, this one younger than the rest with soft auburn hair that was tied back in a ponytail and grey-green eyes that seemed to penetrate all the way down into his soul. Her soft smile and the way she looked at him as a person and not an annoyance made his defenses drop for a moment.

"Oliver Queen, right?" she asked softly, her voice as fragile as her lithe frame. He nodded. "Here," she added, holding out a set of blue hospital scrubs. He looked at her for a moment, slightly confused before realizing he wasn't wearing a shirt.

"Thank you," Oliver rasped, gingerly taking them from her.

She turned to go. "Is there anyone you'd like me to call?" she asked before opening the door.

He thought for a moment. Diggle came to mind, but he couldn't bring himself to tell him just yet, not until he knew Felicity would be okay. Oliver preferred to be alone right now anyway. There was a lot on his mind, and having to deal with another concerned person would push him over the edge. So he shook his head at the nurse.

"Okay," she replied. "I'll come get you once we have Felicity in stable condition."

"Thank you, again," Oliver said as she stepped out the door. The nurse nodded then closed it behind her.

He threw on the shirt and left the pants on the chair beside him. When he looked down at his hands, he realized they were stained red. The blood that covered them brought many difficult memories rushing to his mind. From things that happened on the island to Tommy's death, they slammed into his chest knocking the wind from his lungs. Oliver gasped, unable to breathe at that moment.

When the memories finally subsided, tears streaked down his cheeks again and his hands were shaking. He stood up and found a small sink to his right. The desperate need to wash his hands over and over overwhelmed him. Once, twice, three times he scrubbed them with soap until they were painful and raw, just like his heart. Being alone allowed him to drop the mask he always wore in favor of the full on assault from his feelings.

It was sorely needed. He hadn't allowed himself to feel in such a long time that he almost forgot what it was like. Everything he'd ever felt for the woman now hanging on to her life by a thread a few doors down pummeled him with guilt he knew he deserved. The feelings crushed him under their weight until he realized for the past year all he'd ever done was keep Felicity at an arm's length.

He knew she cared about him. How else could he explain all the things she'd done for him from infiltrating an underground casino to putting herself out as bait for a serial killer and most importantly, tracking him to the deserted island he'd run to after the fall of the Glades.

All that time He'd refused to acknowledge that his feelings for her had grown from mere friendship into something more intense, something deeper, something better. He didn't just care about her, he needed her. She had become a very important part of his life, and possibly more. She had become the light to his darkness. If anything happened to her, he didn't know what he'd do. Having her life in the hands of the doctors and nurses now made him uncomfortable at best, but he knew she was in good hands.

It didn't stop him from worrying, though. He needed to see her, to make sure she was still alive. He couldn't let her die. Not like this, surrounded by people she didn't know. If he was going to lose her, he wanted to be at her side, not several doors down. That thought alone caused his heart to seize in his chest. No, he couldn't think like that. She was going to be okay.

An alarm went off outside the door and he immediately rushed to it, throwing it open to find several doctors and nurses heading in the direction of her cubicle. His heart stopped. He ran out of the room in a full on sprint praying he'd get to her side in time. Skidding to a halt in front of the now open curtain, he found a nurse pressing on her chest as another held an oxygen mask over her nose and mouth while a doctor grasped the paddles of the defibrillator in his hands.

Oliver watched in horror as they shocked her once, her heart refusing to start. He cried out her name, begging her to stay with them as the doctor shocked her again. Panic rose in his chest when he realized this could possibly be the last time he saw her alive. He cried out even louder, "Felicity! Please don't leave me!" as the doctor tried once more to restart her heart.


	3. Chapter 2

**Chapter 2**

Time slowed as Oliver stared at the monitors, silently pleading with them to show some kind of activity. Finally, the little green line on the screen picked up her pulse. It was weak, but it was there. A collective sigh of relief escaped all those who were present. Oliver felt his knees go weak and if the nurse who'd brought him the scrubs hadn't come up, he probably would have fallen to the ground.

She seemed to know he was at the end of his rope and looped an arm around his waist before helping him into a chair in an unoccupied cubicle. Gulping down several deep breaths to slow his racing heart, Oliver finally looked up at her. There was a soft smile on her face as she reached down and placed a gentle hand on his shoulder. "We're doing the best we can," she said. "She's lost a lot of blood."

"I know," he sighed. Sagging into the chair, he looked up at her knowing full well he was wearing his heart on his sleeve as he said, "Please don't let her die. I… I can't lose her."

"We're doing everything in our power to bring her back to you. It's still touch and go at this time, especially with that close call. She needs blood and we're still on short supply even a year after the tragedy in the Glades…"

"Take mine," Oliver said as he pushed up the sleeve of his shirt.

"But I don't even know if it's a match…"

"It is," he confirmed as he stared up at her with unwavering eyes. "I already know." Although she gave him a questioning look, the woman didn't ask how. Even if she had, he wasn't about to tell her that they'd already done those tests back at the foundry.

It had been a precautionary measure just in case something happened to Oliver and they didn't have enough of his blood on hand. Both Felicity and Diggle had been tested and Felicity turned out to be a match. For all the times she'd saved his life, Oliver hoped that something as little as this would help save hers.

The nurse simply stood up and went over to one of the drawers beside the empty bed and pulled out all the things she'd need to draw a pint of his blood. Once she had the needle inserted in his vein, it only took a few minutes to draw enough of the precious liquid before she was scurrying over to the other cubicle to deliver it. She returned a few minutes later with a cup of orange juice and a glazed donut.

"Here," she said, handing him the food. "It's all we had in the lounge. You probably should have a little more to eat within the next hour so you don't feel light headed, but this ought to tide you over for the time being."

Oliver nodded, graciously accepting the food she offered. As the nurse turned to go, he said, "I never caught your name."

"It's Chloe," she replied with a smile. "Just ask for me if you need anything. You can stay here just so long as you don't interfere."

"Thank you, Chloe." She gave him another soft smile before turning to go.

Left to his thoughts once again, Oliver ate the donut as he listened to the doctors and nurses discussing Felicity's condition amongst themselves. There was a lot of speculation as to how she'd gotten the injury, most of them agreeing it was probably an attempted suicide. His heart became lodged in his throat upon hearing their assessment. He wanted to jump out of his seat and tell them that couldn't possibly be the cause, but he knew as well as they did it was probably true.

Why, though? Why would Felicity do it? Why was she so hell bent on taking her life? What had happened to make her want to choose death? The questions stung the more he thought about them. His beautiful, sweet, bright Felicity… Why had she refused to talk to him about it? Was this his fault?

That had to be the reason. This was his fault. He'd brought her into his mess and now she was paying the ultimate price. She'd been so bright and so full of innocence when they'd met, but as time wore on, the darkness had crawled into her the way it had crawled into him on the island. But she'd had no way to cope with it. The only person who she could have turned to had kept his distance.

Oliver hung his head in shame. He deserved whatever punishment karma could dish out just so long as she stayed alive. She didn't deserve this life. She didn't deserve all the pain he'd put her through. He made a decision then to let her leave if she so desired, to let her go if that was what she needed in order to recover. His heart was already torn to pieces seeing her in such a fragile state. It couldn't hurt more than it already did if she left.

He had no idea how long he'd been sitting there staring at the closed curtain in front of him before someone walked into his periphery. Oliver glanced to the figure who had appeared in the cubicle to find it was Chloe holding a tray of food. She set it down on the empty bed and pulled up a chair to sit beside him.

"Are you okay?" she softly asking, her voice timid as if she were afraid her question was out of line.

"I'm… I'm okay," Oliver replied, his gaze falling to his hands. They were cracked and red from the amount of times he'd washed them.

"Well, I came by to tell you Felicity is finally stable and to bring you some dinner," Chloe said, the soft smile returning to her face.

Oliver shot out of the chair. "Can I see her?" he asked.

"Yes, of course." She stood up and went to the curtain, pushing it back so he could see his friend for the first time in what felt like ages.

"Felicity," he whispered, carefully stepping past the nurse who was monitoring her vital signs. Leaning over her sleeping form, he raised his hand and let it ghost over her temple. She was warm and her skin had taken on a brighter tone than the last time he'd seen her. The rollercoaster ride was finally over. Oliver felt the tightness in his chest loosen slightly allowing him to take the first deep breath he'd been able to take all day.

She was alive and that's all that mattered. Pressing a soft kiss to her forehead, he reached down and wrapped his fingers around hers to squeeze her hand. "I'm right here," he murmured against her skin. "I'm not going anywhere."

"We'll be moving her soon," Chloe said, his attention shifting to the redhead as she stood beside him.

"I want her in the private wing," Oliver replied as if it were an order. She nodded without arguing.

Not even half an hour later, a pair of orderlies came to take Felicity to her private room. He had picked at his dinner, barely able to eat as he stared at her in the bed. Several more questions arose in his mind, but he refused to let them materialize. The guilt was already eating him up, and if it hadn't been for this change in scenery, it probably would have consumed him.

The walk through the hospital was quiet, the clocks on the wall reading well past three in the morning. He knew he needed to make a few phone calls, especially where Diggle was concerned. Their friend and teammate needed to know what had happened, but with Oliver's phone still on Felicity's bathroom floor, he really couldn't do much.

When Felicity was settled in for the night, one of the doctors from the ER stopped by along with Chloe trailing behind. As he stepped into the room, Oliver turned from where he stood beside the bed and regarded him with an unyielding gaze. He was short and stocky, with dark brown hair and sandy colored eyes. "Mr. Queen?" he said, his voice much deeper than expected.

Oliver gave him a quick nod and he continued, "Dr. Averies. I took care of Miss Smoak in the ER earlier." A slight bit of recognition filtered through Oliver's mind; this was the doctor that had tried to restart her heart. Again, he nodded. "Does she have any immediate family?"

The question caught him off guard. Oliver knew she'd been in and out of the foster care system most of her life, the reasons still eluding him since her parents were alive and well. He'd find out later, he thought, and replied, "None that I know of." He figured it was probably better that way.

Dr. Averies nodded once before looking down at his clipboard and continuing, "It says here you're her emergency contact." He paused for a moment, allowing Oliver to acknowledge the simple fact with a nod of his own. "Miss Smoak-"

"Felicity," Oliver interrupted. He knew how much she hated people calling her that. The only time she allowed it was in the office while working as his executive assistant, otherwise the formality was dropped in favor of her given name. "Please, call her Felicity."

"Felicity is very lucky to be alive," the doctor said. "She lost about 30% of her blood volume before she got here. But I have my concerns about her wellbeing. Do you by any chance know how she got that laceration to her arm?" Oliver shook his head, refusing to acknowledge what he knew to be the truth. "I've seen it before. It looks to be self-inflicted, probably done with some kind of sharp object."

The image of the bloody shard of glass in the bath tub suddenly popped into Oliver's mind. He grabbed the edge of a nearby chair to steady himself as he felt the world begin to tilt sideways. It was the news he'd been dreading. But what the doctor said next had him reeling.

"We need to put her on an involuntary psychiatric hold for the next seventy-two hours to make sure she doesn't try to harm herself again. There'll be a nurse coming in every half-hour or so to check on her wellbeing. Once she's awake and lucid enough to start talking, I'll send in a psychiatrist to evaluate her mental state."

"What?! No!" Oliver immediately protested. He wasn't about to let Felicity go through the same hell he'd been through after returning from the island. She didn't need that kind of pressure, especially right now. What she needed was a friend willing to listen, someone who knew the depth of her secrets and would be able to help her, unlike the doctors.

"I'm sorry, Mr. Queen, but that's standard protocol with attempted suicide," Dr. Averies replied.

"You don't even know if that's what happened. I might not either, but I'd at least give her the benefit of the doubt." Oliver answered, his voice dropping to a low growl worthy of his alter ego as his eyes darkened with anger. He stood toe-to-toe with the doctor, towering over him by at least a foot.

Although the man had every right to assume what was wrong with his patient, Oliver wasn't about to let him put her through what he knew would be seventy-two hours of pure hell. At least making the doctor doubt himself would give him time to come up with a cover story for her so she'd be released and they could deal with this by themselves.

"You will leave her alone until she wakes up and tells you if that is, in fact, what happened last night," Oliver added. He knew it was the man beneath the hood taking over at that moment, but he didn't care. If this would keep Felicity out of the spotlight, even for a few more hours, he'd do it just to give her a fighting chance.

The doctor swallowed hard before taking a step back. "Yes, sir," he finally replied in a shaky voice and scurried out of the room.

Chloe remained at the door, her eyes locked on Oliver as he pressed a hand to his forehead while the other clenched into a fist at his side. Although he could feel her gaze on him, it didn't seem any different than it had in the ER. She was regarding him with sympathy rather than fear or disgust.

"Do you need anything, Mr. Queen?" she asked, her voice as gentle as it had ever been. He shook his head and sat down heavily in the chair beside Felicity's bed. "Well, if you do, let me know. I'm going to try and get a transfer up here until your friend is well enough to go home."

Her kindness struck him to the very depths of his soul. There had only been one other person in his life who had shown him that much grace, and she was currently lying in the hospital bed unconscious. Wrapping his fingers around Felicity's hand, he brought it to his chest and held it there before glancing over to find the nurse just turning to leave.

"Chloe," he called to her. She turned and waited. "Thank you." She gave him a soft smile before finally leaving the room.

The next few hours passed in silence as Oliver stared down at the bed before him. Felicity looked so small and so fragile laying there, nothing like her cheery, lively self. The more he thought about things, the more he began to realize that she hadn't been as cheery as she once was.

At some point, her smiles had become fewer and far between as their nights grew longer and became fraught with more danger than either of them had anticipated. Even her babbling and inappropriate comments had tapered off. That should have been a sign that something was wrong. Yet Oliver had clearly missed it in favor of ignoring her obvious distress by burying it beneath his own.

"I'm sorry," he whispered while stroking back a few strands of her golden hair away from her forehead. Felicity stirred, her pink painted fingers twitching in his hand. His eyes immediately flew to her face, watching her as she slowly began to awaken. Pale eyes fluttered open, tired and unfocused.

"Hey," Oliver murmured in an attempt to quell the emotions that suddenly arose in his chest. Relief, hope, gratitude, and guilt hit him all at once when her gaze finally settled on him. He smiled, one of those genuine, real smiles that only happened when he was with her, but it wavered when he saw the lifeless look in her eyes.

"I'm not dead, am I?" Felicity rasped, her voice hoarse from disuse. She blinked a few times, still trying to get her bearings, then glanced down at their intertwined fingers before her dull gaze finally settled on him.

"No," he replied, his attempt at swallowing back his emotions failing as his voice cracked. The gratitude he'd felt just a moment ago when she'd first opened her eyes faltered. Her sadness came across so startlingly clear in those aquamarine pools he felt the tightness in his chest return.

"I'm sorry," she whispered. An errant tear dripped down her cheek. Nothing could stop him from reaching over and wiping it away. Her eyes closed, the sharp inhale of her breath not going unnoticed as he let his hand linger against the warmth of her face. She burrowed into his palm as her fingers squeezed around his. "I'm so sorry," Felicity repeated over and over again as more tears fell from her eyes.

Oliver was on his feet in seconds, his arms wrapping around her tiny frame hauling her to his chest in a tight embrace. "It's okay," he murmured into her hair as he cradled the back of her head with his hand. Her tiny fingers dug into his shirt, holding on for dear life as she sobbed against his chest.


	4. Chapter 3

**Chapter 3**

For the next half hour, he held her in his arms, rocking her back and forth until she finally went limp against him. Looking down, Oliver found she'd cried herself back to sleep. Instead of letting Felicity go, he crawled into bed beside her and carefully tucked her against his chest so his arms wrapped around her completely. The warm embrace allowed him to doze off for a few moments at a time, only waking when he felt her stir.

That was how Chloe found them a few hours later when she came in to check Felicity's stats. Oliver was still wrapped protectively around the petite blonde, one hand tangled in her golden tresses while the other remained splayed across her back. His eyes met Chloe's the moment she stepped into the room and she smiled.

"I take it she woke up," Chloe said, her voice barely above a whisper as she came to stand beside the bed. Oliver simply nodded, his arms tightening imperceptibly around the woman he held.

Even though he knew Chloe was on his side, he still felt the need to protect Felicity no matter who was around. They'd both been through so much already and after her breakdown, he felt it stronger than ever.

"I just need to check her arm to see how it looks," Chloe whispered.

Slowly, Oliver rolled Felicity onto her back. Her slumber remained uninterrupted even as he pulled his arms free of her body. It wasn't until Chloe took her hand and began to peel off the bandage that Felicity finally began to awaken.

"What's going on?" she murmured, sleepy blue eyes opening a crack as Oliver's hand slipped into the one being undressed.

"The nurse just needs to check your cut," he softly replied, giving her fingers a light squeeze. His lips brushed her temple and she turned her head to peer at her injured arm. Her face fell the moment she laid eyes on the ghastly wound. Pulling away the bandage revealed at least twenty stitches that held the skin together.

With a gasp, Felicity turned, burying her face in the crook of his neck as she tried to hold in the sob that threatened to escape her throat. But Oliver could feel it bubbling up by the way her other hand had grabbed hold of his shirt and held onto it for dear life. Her quivering shoulders were another sign that the dam holding back the torrent of emotions was about to burst.

He slid his arm beneath her shoulders and pressed her against his chest as he whispered, "It's okay. I'm right here. I'm not going anywhere." Her muffled sobs soon filled the room, and as he looked up at Chloe, he found that same empathetic look in her eyes he'd seen earlier. She was quick to clean up the wound and redress it before giving him a short nod to let him know she was done.

"It's over," Oliver whispered, stroking Felicity's hair until she loosened her hold on his shirt. She looked down at her arm to make sure then relaxed against him, her fingers loosening their grip. Chloe silently left the room, closing the door behind her as she gave them one last, lingering look. Her eyes held pain he hadn't seen before and for a moment he thought that maybe she had been in Felicity's shoes, but he shook the thought from his mind in order to focus on the woman lying in the bed beside him.

Felicity had burrowed into his chest again, her eyes shut as she sniffled softly. After a few more strokes of his hand through her tangled blonde hair, Oliver sank into the bed beside her and wrapped his arms around her waist to hold her a little closer. "I'm sorry," she was mumbling again, her hand coming to rest along his side.

Another kiss to her forehead, another whispered, "It's okay," had her gazing up at him with pale, red-rimmed eyes.

"I didn't think you would find me," she murmured, her eyes flicking away from his.

Oliver took her chin in his hand and tilted her face so their eyes met. The pain he found within hers was almost too much to bear. A part of him wanted to wrap her up in his arms for the rest of her life and never let her go, while another part, a much more demanding part, wanted answers.

"Why did you do it?" he softly replied, his fingers stroking her cheek as her eyes shuttered at the question.

"I… I…" She swallowed hard, trying to reign in her emotions as she kept her eyes screwed shut.

"Please," Oliver begged. "I need to know why I almost lost you last night." It was even harder to say those words than he expected now that the image of her flatlining was so deeply ingrained in his psyche. He wished there was something to erase that memory from his mind so he wouldn't have to relive the horror over and over as he looked down at the fragile woman in his arms. But he knew this would be something that would stick with him for the rest of his life.

Two tears fell from her eyes, tears which he caught with his thumb and brushed away from her warm, pale skin. Felicity was struggling to find her words, something he never thought possible. Yet here she was, silent for the first time he could ever remember. "Because…" she started again. "Because… I'm weak."

"What?" Oliver replied, unable to comprehend what she meant.

"You and Dig… You're both so strong and you're able to deal with things so well, but me? I'm the weakest link in our team. I freak out whenever you two get hurt. I cry and get emotional. I suck at field work. I've screwed up more missions than I can count. And if I had only been paying more attention to the Merlyn documents, I would have found that other device. I would have been able to stop what happened in the Glades a year ago. I would have been able to save Tommy and all those people who died, including my brother." Felicity began sobbing again.

Oliver was struck dumb. "Your… brother?" he asked. This was new information to him. Then again, it wasn't like he knew that much about her. Yes, he'd done some snooping and found she'd been in and out of the foster care system for most of her life because her parents hadn't been able to take care of her for some reason. She'd hopped from one family to another until she'd turned eighteen and was able to head out on her own with a scholarship to MIT nonetheless. But nowhere in his research did it mention she had a brother.

"My foster brother," Felicity sniffled. "He was the one who got me into computers. He died in the Glades that day trying to protect his family." She broke down into wailing sobs, her body trembling in his arms.

"No," he breathed. The lump in his throat rose up unexpectedly, tears pricking the corners of his eyes as he gazed down at her shaking frame. Oliver finally understood where her guilt came from. Had he known that she'd suffered a tragedy as deep as his own, he would have tried to help her sooner. But again, he'd failed to even figure it out in the first place.

"I couldn't take all the pain and all the regret anymore," she continued. "It was eating me alive and I just wanted it to end. I wanted it to stop. So when the glass slipped out of my hand and broke in the bathroom, and I saw that large piece just sitting there, taunting me to pick it up... I thought I'd found my answer. I thought I'd finally found the one thing that would give me peace."

Her sobbing deepened as she buried her face in his shirt. "I just wanted the pain to go away. I just wanted it to stop for a little while," she bawled. "I didn't want to hurt you or Dig or anyone else. I just… I… I didn't want to hurt inside anymore."

Felicity's entire body shook with her sobs. One of his arms snaked around her waist, pulling her as close as physically possible while the other tangled in her hair as he sighed heavily. Oliver was at a loss for words. Never could he have guessed that beneath that soft, bubbly exterior laid such raging demons.

She had always seemed so happy. How could he have ignored the darkness that had been surrounding her these past several months? The cuts along her thigh should have prompted him to do more than just wait for her to tell him what was wrong. He should have taken the lead in this situation. He should have asked more questions, been more persistent. But he knew why…

There were so many aspects of his own life that took precedence above all else. Now, as he laid there thinking about it, he knew almost every single reason should have been trumped by the woman still sobbing in his arms. She was the most important aspect of his life. She'd held him together, brought him back from the brink on several occasions. She should have held that top spot in his priorities as well.

Racked with guilt, Oliver tightened his arms around the frail blonde and buried his face in her long, flaxen locks. "Felicity, why didn't you tell me?" he murmured into her hair.

"I didn't think you'd care." The admission sliced right into the center of his heart, ripping it open until the guilt flowed freely. This was his fault. "You were dealing with enough things on your plate that my problems seemed insignificant." It wasn't really what she said that broke his heart, it was the way she said it. She sounded defeated, lost, completely alone.

Oliver realized in his mission to save his family's company and his city, he'd become so narrow-minded that everyone else's problems seemed to be overshadowed by his. It had happened with Diggle not even a week after Oliver had returned from the island a second time. He'd become so wrapped up in his own issues that he failed to notice that his friend flinched every time he mentioned Carly.

Not knowing what to say, Oliver blurted out the first thing that came to mind, "Is that why you started cutting?" He silently berated himself for asking such a loaded question and didn't really expect an answer.

Felicity merely nodded. "I'd done it once before, back in high school. There were a lot of awful things happening back then and I needed a distraction. I hated myself for trying it, so I stopped, but then all this happened and it felt like a release every time I did it. But last night, it wasn't enough… Neither was the wine."

"You… Last night?" The words wouldn't stop tumbling from his mouth. "Where?" He needed to know before the doctor came back and decided it was time to throw her to the lions.

"No, Oliver, please!" Felicity begged, pulling away from him and tightening the blanket around her body.

But he wasn't taking no for an answer. Not when it meant she might end up in an institution. He wasn't going to put her through that, no matter what. "I need to know, Felicity. If you don't tell me, they'll keep you here and you might not be able to go home," he said with conviction.

Her face fell instantly, the shock and horror of what he said finally dawning on her. "What?" she asked, trying to take it all in.

"The doctor told me they would put you on an involuntary psychiatric hold for the next seventy-two hours because he thought you'd tried to…" Oliver swallowed thickly, his eyes shutting for a moment as he gathered the courage to say what he'd been avoiding all night. When he felt her hand on his forearm, he opened his eyes again and stared down at her.

Felicity was nodding, letting him know wordlessly that his assumption was right. Tears pooled at the corners of her eyes as she replied, "He was right, I tried."

The feeling of the knife slicing through his heart returned, only this time, it felt as if someone had reached in and pulled it right out of his chest, holding it out in front of him as it was squeezed and crushed into a lifeless pulp. Oliver reached out, his arms banding around her once more as he brought her to his chest.

"I'm sorry," Felicity wept into his shirt. "I didn't want to hurt you. I didn't want to hurt anyone." Her fingers dug into his arm, clinging to him desperately as she added, "I wanna go home. I don't wanna stay here anymore."

"Then show me," Oliver urged softly. "I need to know so I can help you, so I can take you home."

Without a word, Felicity slowly pulled the blanket away from her leg then hiked up the hospital gown until it revealed her upper thigh. There were several freshly scabbed over cuts along the pale flesh, a couple of which had been bandaged over. His hand fell to her skin, thumb gently running along the cuts as she tensed beneath it. An audible gasp escaped her mouth and immediately his hand drew back as a mumbled, "Sorry," left his lips.

Oliver hadn't meant to be so forward, but there was just something so heartbreaking about seeing those cuts along her pristine skin that made his heart sink in his chest. Even though he couldn't even begin to understand why Felicity had done this to herself, there was nothing he wouldn't do to help her. If that meant lying to the doctors so he could take her home and try to take care of her himself, then so be it.

Gazing up, their eyes locked. For a moment, he got a glimpse of the true depth of her pain shining in those pale blue pools. It quickly disappeared, Felicity's mask slipping into place as the door to her room creaked open.

Both their heads shot up to see who had intruded on their time alone. Dr. Averies stood at the threshold, followed closely behind by Chloe and a few other doctors. They scrambled to push the blanket over her exposed leg before anyone could see it and were glad that the doctor had been looking at his clipboard before his head rose up to look at them. "Good morning, Ms. Smoak, Mr. Queen," he greeted them coolly.

Oliver turned towards Felicity making it seem like he was going to kiss her temple, but instead whispered, "Follow my lead."

"Dr. Averies," Oliver replied in the same cool tone as he regarded the man with yet another unyielding look while hopping off the bed to politely shake his hand.

"Glad to see our patient is awake," the doctor said as he strode up to the bed and gazed down at her with critical eyes.

"Felicity and I were just talking about what happened last night. Apparently, it was an accident." Oliver went to stand at the other side of the bed, his hand immediately slipping into hers and giving it a light squeeze. He could feel the tension in her body slowly easing.

"Oh, really?" Dr. Averies sounded skeptical. His tone was quickly grating on Oliver's nerves. He really just wanted the guy to get the hell out of there already, but he knew there were still more questions on the way. "So, what kind of an accident was it?"

"I slipped and fell," Felicity answered.

"What about the cuts along your thighs? Also a result of slipping and falling?" The condescending tone in which the doctor asked his question had Oliver fuming. He could feel his rage building, and if it hadn't been the presence of so many people in the room, he probably would have given him a taste of his alter ego by now.

Somehow he managed to restrain himself, focusing instead on Felicity and the way the tension had returned to her body. She was scared, and all he could do was give her hand another squeeze. But she was also resilient. She took a deep breath before glaring up at the man with angry blue eyes.

"Just because I cut doesn't mean I'm suicidal." The defiant way in which she answered the doctor had Oliver's chest swelling with pride. It took all his strength to suppress the grin that threatened to appear on his lips. There was his Felicity, fighting back the darkness just like he knew she would.

"And another thing, you're a doctor. You shouldn't be assuming things about your patients. You should be treating them with kindness and respect," she charged on, the glare she shot Dr. Averies rivaling Oliver's.

The man looked dumbfounded as he stood at the foot of her bed, his mouth hanging open with the clipboard slowly sliding out of his hands. Oliver could no longer hide his smirk. His hand fell to Felicity's shoulder, giving it a gentle squeeze in support and solidarity.

"I… I am sorry, Ms. Smoak," Dr. Averies fumbled through his apology. "Your discharge papers should be ready within the hour. Chloe will take care of everything for you." With that, he made a hasty retreat out of the room followed closely behind by the other doctors that had gathered at the door.

Oliver sank into the bed and wrapped an arm around her waist, pulling her close to his side as he turned and placed a soft kiss on the top of her head. "You did good," he whispered when he felt her relax against him.

"I just wanna go home," Felicity tiredly replied, her head falling against his shoulder.

"Soon," he said, kissing her head again.

They sat there for several minutes, his arm around her waist holding her close as they stared out at the city through the large window to the right of the bed. Oliver sighed; he didn't want to let her go. If they could stay like this for the rest of the day, he wouldn't mind, but there was a lot to do. As he reached for the in room phone to place a call to Diggle, Chloe stepped into the room.

"There's someone in the waiting room claiming to be your driver," she said hurriedly, almost as if she was ready to call security if he told her to. "He says his name is John Diggle."

"That would be him," Oliver replied as he stood up. He turned to Felicity and added, "I'll be right back." She nodded, and with Chloe he walked out the door. He was led down the hall past the nurses' station where he could hear the argument before he even reached the waiting room.

"Look, you can check with security. I am Mr. Queen's bodyguard and driver!" Diggle was nearly shouting at someone near the door.

"I'm sorry, but…" a stern, matronly voice admonished just as Oliver reached them.

"No need to apologize," he told the woman before sliding past her and offering his hand to Diggle. "Glad you're finally here."

The older nurse, whose nametag he couldn't read, simply huffed a response and walked out of the room. Chloe remained at the door, though, her shoulder pressed against the frame. "I'm sorry," she said softly. "Had I known…"

"Don't worry about it," Oliver answered, smiling sweetly as she nodded her head and scurried out of the room to leave the two men be.

"Oliver, what's going on?" Diggle was quick to ask, the urgency clear in his voice. "I turn on the news this morning and they're saying your 'girlfriend' was admitted to the hospital."

"It's Felicity. She's…" Oliver took a moment to consider what he should tell his friend. The truth, he told himself, but it just didn't feel right if he said it. That was something Felicity needed to do. He couldn't tell anyone for her, so instead, he replied, "You should probably talk to her."

They started to walk down the hall side by side. "Is she okay?" Diggle continued his line of questioning.

"She's being released. Physically, she's fine, but mentally…"

Diggle simply nodded. It seemed to Oliver that the older man knew far more than he let on, but he ignored it. Now was not a good time to argue about things. Felicity was their priority, and if that meant waiting until later to exchange words, then so be it. Reaching the door, Oliver pushed it open with his shoulder.

"You've got a visitor," he said with an easy smile that didn't quite feel right. If Felicity noticed, she paid no mind. Her focus was solely on Diggle when he stepped into the room. "I'll leave you two alone and see where that paperwork is," Oliver added before walking out, closing the door behind him.

That pang of guilt he'd been feeling ever since the previous day returned with vigor. Of course Diggle saw far more than he let on, but the real question was: could either one of them have seen this coming?


End file.
